


Playing Along

by akensing, whendoestheshipsail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Casa Erotica, First Time, M/M, Nightclub, Pining, Season 5ish but Gabriel is alive, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, blowjob, it's my canon and i'll do what i want to, so why wouldn't they go to a gay club and compete in a blow job contest?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akensing/pseuds/akensing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whendoestheshipsail/pseuds/whendoestheshipsail
Summary: Sick of the Dean/Cas UST, the Trickster decides to push things along (so to speak) by forcing Dean and Cas through a series of trials designed to make them both own up to their feelings and desires. The trials just so happen to be in a gay club. Where there's a weekly blowjob contest. And a backroom. And booze. Lots and lots of booze.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline is dodgy as I started writing it before I had my canon down and so the Trickster is still alive. My amazing co-author was willing to put up with it.

It was 3 a.m. when Cas heard Sam screaming. He jumped up from his chair, dashed out of his motel room and into the room Dean and Sam were sharing. An angel blade was in his hand before he’d crossed the threshold.

The room was empty. Sam was gone. And, of course, Dean’s bed was unmade. He checked the room, the parking lot, even jogged around the motel but found nothing. No clue of who or _how_ Sam had been taken. He called Dean, having to leave a message, telling him he needed to come back immediately. He didn’t say anything to indicate how annoyed he was that Dean wasn’t at the motel because he was having sex with some anonymous woman, but he was so distracted at Sam’s disappearance that it was possible some of his irritation leaked through. Irrelevant, he thought, and put his attention towards finding clues of who might have taken Sam.

Cas put the blade away and surveyed the room again. There had to be something.  Sam’s phone was on the nightstand, the bag of weapons unopened at the foot of the bed. Whatever had occurred here had been a surprise, and over quickly. The room was warded, making it impossible for a monster or angel to enter the room. Had Sam opened the door, let someone inside who’d taken him? Which would mean this was someone they knew or trusted. Or at least gave the appearance of someone they knew. His gaze caught on the right wall and he went closer, brushing his fingers down the wet chalk. A leak, which had smeared the warding on that wall and allowed something inside.

The sound of the Impala coming down the road at maximum speed was audible from half a mile away. Not to people, obviously, but he knew the car was coming.

By the time Dean barged into the room, gun drawn, hair disheveled and mouth covered in poorly wiped off lipstick, Castiel had himself firmly under control. It was always best to have a few moments to himself before seeing Dean. Angels and humans, Crowley and other demons alike all commented on his attachment to the Winchesters and in particular his attachment to Dean. Because he was like a brother to them. Anything else was best kept hidden deep, deep inside himself and the body of Jimmy Novak.

“What happened?” Dean demanded, lowering the gun and putting the safety back on. “Where’s Sam?”

“I don’t know. He screamed. I came to investigate and he was gone. The warding is ruined, though. There, in the corner. Water damage,” he said, pointing. Dean stalked to the corner of the room and Castiel studied Dean, wondering how many times he’d had intercourse with the red-headed bartender. He’d been away for five hours. He dragged his attention back to the immediate problem. Sam. Missing.

“What the hell is this?” Dean demanded, dropping down to examine another chalk symbol. It had been altered. The symbol was supposed to be curved, to look almost like a J but now it was a T.

“T? Who would do this? Is this supposed to be a clue?”

Castiel turned and looked at the other wards, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t noticed the alteration.

“There,” Castiel said, “I believe that’s a… smiley face.”  He looked closer. It was quite noticeably a happy face. Peculiar.

“So someone came in here, took Sam and, what, made a joke?” Dean said, outrage in his tone.

“The Trickster?” Castiel guessed.

“That fucker,” Dean muttered. He left the room, going to the Impala and popping the trunk. “One very pokey stick,” he muttered, pulling a stake out and glaring at it in the dark. They went back into the motel room.

“I suppose it could be worse,” Castiel offered, as Dean handed him a bowl and herbs to summon the Trickster to them. “At least he doesn’t want to kill anyone. He typically seeks his own amusement.”

Dean shot him a dark look. “But if we happen to die during one of his pranks he won’t give a damn. And you said Sam screamed.”

Castiel nodded and went back into the room, setting up what he could. Dean started grinding herbs, the tension unbearable. “How was your evening?” Castiel asked and wished he could take it back.

Dean paused, his gaze raking Castiel up and down before looking away, a faint blush staining his cheeks. Castiel had thought the question might give away his feeling but was it awkward too? This was the sort of thing the brothers often talked about. Perhaps it was the timing of the question. He would need to think about it. Later. Once Sam was back. “My night was fine. Great. How was yours?”

“I read and waited,” he said. His voice came out low, a shade away from a growl and he cleared his throat, hoping his…irritation wasn’t noticeable. He feared it wasn’t just irritation but was worse than that. Jealousy. Camaraderie and devotion didn’t inspire lust. He understood that. The feelings he had for Dean were too vast and unknowable to pick out and give them their proper names.

Dean recited the spell and lit the match. A moment later the Trickster showed up, shirtless and wearing leather pants. “Where is Sam?” Dean demanded.

“Well, hello to you too. He’s fine. I mean, he’s trapped, obviously. But he’s relatively comfortable. And he will be for the next day.”

“Give him back then.” Dean had the stake in his hand, making sure the Trickster saw it.

The Trickster snorted. “That is _never_ how this works. You know that. And it’s unnecessary. I’m here to help _you_ and amuse _me_.” He waggled his brows. “A win-win. All you have to do is play the game and you’ll get him back. I’ve even dressed the part, to help get you in the mood.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You look like a leather daddy.” Dean said, a sneer on his lips.

“What is a leather daddy?” Castiel murmured. Dean ignored him, attention focused on the Trickster. The Trickster laughed, clapping his hands together once.

“This is fantastic. I’m really going to enjoy this. So, I have set up a scenario of sorts. I’m calling it ‘Your worst nightmare.’ And all you have to do is make it through your worst nightmare, to the heart of the maze,” he said, using air quotes on the word maze, “and Sam will be there, safe and sound. You better get moving.”

“Who’s worst nightmare is this?” Castiel asked. Dean was silent and unmoving next to him.

“Oh, it’s Dean’s,” The Trickster said. “I suspect you’ll thank me for it. Don’t say I never did anything for you..” He waggled his brows in a gesture that was oddly obscene.

“I don’t understand why you are doing this...or what’s going on with your eyebrows. How do we begin the maze to find Sam?” Castiel asked.

“Really, this is the easiest thing in the world. And it’s not even a _literal_ maze. But maybe that would be a good idea. Another time, perhaps.” He paused, eyes towards the ceiling as if he were thinking, imagining the whole horrendous idea to throw them into a maze and watch them rush around like rats. He shrugged. “Anyways, there is a place downtown. It’s even in the newspaper. You’ll know it when you find it,” he said, and with a vicious smile sent in Dean’s direction he disappeared. “Daddy bears, twinks, tops, bottoms. It’s all happening there.”

Dean hadn’t moved but his face was oddly pale.

“Do you have any idea what he wants you to do? Where he wants you to go?” Castiel asked.

Dean jerked away from Castiel, pacing the small room. His animal-in-the-zoo walk. “We’re not doing it. We’re not going to play his stupid game. Let’s get him back here and beat the crap out of him until he gives us Sam.”

“Engaging the Trickster directly in a confrontation can be tricky.”

Dean’s look was malevolent.

“Pardon the pun. His powers are vast. Shouldn’t we at least look at the newspaper to see what he might mean?”

“You want to play along with him? _No._ He needs to learn once and for all that he can’t mess with us,” Dean said. He dumped the contents of the bowl in the trashcan and began mixing the summoning ingredients again.

The Trickster was suddenly back again, sitting on the bed, legs crossed. “You two. Just play. Or I’m going to go cut off Sam’s fingers. One for every hour. So get there soon. And I’m not coming back. You only summoned me because I let you,” he said. And then he disappeared.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of bears.”

Dean blinked. “What?”

“He said there were daddy bears. Bears are large and intimidating creatures but surely they are nothing compared to the monsters you’ve faced.”

“No. No, just…never mind,” he said, with a shake of his head.

Castiel opened the newspaper, unsure what he was searching for. “Dean. I can feel your agitation. You must have some idea what we are looking for. Everyone has fears. It is a perfectly normal human emotion. Whatever it is, I will be with you. I will help you get through this,” he said, not finding any hint of what might be so frightening. And there was no zoo mentioned.

“Could it be clowns? Is there a circus in town?” Bears were often involved with a circus.

“No. Clowns are Sam’s thing,” Dean said, a momentary snicker at his brother’s phobia lightening the mood briefly. Then he gave a defeated sigh. “Give me the paper. I know what it is,” he said, refusing to look up and meet Castiel’s gaze. Castiel pushed the paper over, watching as Dean went to the entertainment section. He didn’t open it up but just stood there for a moment, staring at the paper with such an expression of trepidation on his face that Castiel reached out, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean shifted away. A rejection. Not overt but there was no mistaking that he didn’t want to be touched. “Let me go alone. This is my nightmare. You stay here and hold down the fort.”

“No. Of course, I will help you. Confronting a nightmare on your own is a terrible idea. And he seems to want me there.”

“And we care about what he wants? He’s manipulating us.”

“Yes,” he said, and waited. Because there was nothing else to do but wait for Dean to reach the obvious conclusion. Although it seemed to be taking a bit longer than Castiel expected…. And then Castiel waited awhile longer. “It’s possible he has no idea what your worst fear is. And if it is in the entertainment section then it shouldn’t be deadly. Shooting ranges wouldn’t be in entertainment, would they?” he asked.

Dean nodded and opened the paper. He flipped through every page, scanning it and then moving on, never lingering on any one thing. Perhaps he would have to act in a play? And then he saw it. “Ah. I can see how he would find that amusing,” Castiel said.

“What?” Dean demanded, a hunted look on his face.

“The Abba karaoke night. Isn’t that something you would hate going to?” Although he wasn’t sure Dean would be afraid of it, exactly.

“Oh,” Dean said. “No, that’s not it, although yeah, that would be a total nightmare.” He sighed heavily, not looking up. “Cas, I’m begging you, buddy. Stay here. Let me do this on my own.”

“You don’t seem afraid, exactly,” Castiel said. “This is something different.”

“I’m not afraid. I don’t even know why the Trickster thinks this is my worst nightmare. Nightmares are about monsters, or Hell, or Sam dying. This is just….” Dean trailed off, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I know what it is. I know where he wants me to go. But if I let you go with me…will you promise to never bring it up again?”

Castiel thought about it. Promises were meant to be taken seriously. “I believe so.”

Dean flipped the page back and pointed at an ad. Castiel read the headline. “A nightclub?” he asked.

Dean didn’t say anything, just watched him, as if he were braced for the look of revulsion that would soon cross Castiel’s face. “For men. You believe we will have to dance with men?”

“Oh my god, this is such a mistake. Let’s go,” Dean said, and grabbed the bag of weapons and headed to the car. Dean didn’t say a word as they drove downtown. He circled the block once, slowly, and Castiel stared at the men lined up outside of the club, Dean’s tension radiating from him in an almost palpable wave. What did it mean that Dean’s fear was a gay nightclub? That he didn’t want anyone to know?

“Humans are very concerned with sexuality,” Castiel said. “God does not care about such things.” He was glad it was dark. Sometimes the darkness, the driving, it would allow Dean to talk about things he wouldn’t otherwise. Be more open.

Not this time apparently. The silence was unbearably awkward.

“ _I_ don’t care about homosexuality,” Castiel offered.

Dean parked the car, turning the ignition off with a hard twist of his hand. He sat there for a long moment, staring out at the night as though he were considering running off into it and never coming back.

“How would he know this?” he asked, voice soft, almost bleak. “And why does he care?”

A few breaths later and Castiel decided the questions weren’t rhetorical. “The Trickster’s powers verge on the omnipotent. As to why he has interested himself in your phobias, I do not know. People don’t die from their fears.”

Dean laughed, which Castiel thought was an odd reaction. “Well, there is a first time for everything.” He watched in confusion as Dean got out of the car. “We leave the weapons here. The bouncers would call the cops,” Dean said. They locked everything in the trunk and walked to the club, standing at the back of the line. The line of single men and gay couples stretched in front of them. A woman walked down the line, dressed all in black. “Dean Winchester?” she asked. Dean straightened, looked around.

“Yes,” he said, gruffly.

“You’re on the VIP list. If you’ll both come with me,” she said. Castiel heard the men ahead of them muttering about them being lucky bastards as they passed by. The bouncer nodded at them and patted them down for weapons and then nodded for them to go in. The music was overwhelmingly loud, the club dark and the smell of alcohol and male sweat was overpowering. “Follow me,” the woman shouted. “I have clothes for you.”

“No,” Dean shouted. “We’re here. Take us to the Trickster.”

She frowned. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I was given very precise instructions. You’ll find Sam so long as you play along.”

“Play along with what?” Castiel demanded.

She looked down at the clipboard she held in her hand. “There is an outfit change, a dance, entering a contest and a trip to the backroom. After that, he’ll see you.”

“What happens in the backroom?” Castiel asked. That sounded the most ominous. Dean was frozen. Apparently speechless.

“Whatever you want,” she said, saucily. Her gaze roamed up and down Castiel in a hungry way.

“So it’s not dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” She laughed. “Not unless you’re into that kind of thing. Usually lots of handjobs and a trip to the glory hole.”

Castiel turned to Dean. “What is a glory hole?”

But Dean was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating and Castiel went over to him, put his hands on Dean’s arms, propping him upright. “What is it? What is wrong?”

Tears filled Dean’s eyes. “I can’t do this. I can’t be here. Don’t you get it? My whole fucking life has been dedicated to being a hunter. A man. My dad. This is not…I can’t. Cas,” he said, sounding almost broken.

“It grieves me to see you this upset,” he said, and there was an odd lump in his throat. “We know you love women,” he said. Understanding came to him suddenly, fully. Some part of Dean was attracted to men.  And it was his worst nightmare. “The waitresses. Lisa. Whatever happens here doesn’t define you or diminish you in any way. We know… _I_ know you are only interested in women.” Why it should be so horrible to say that, Castiel wasn’t sure.

Dean blinked rapidly, his eyes damp. Castiel shook him, becoming angry that this was so difficult for Dean.

“You behaving like this is what he wants. His goal is to upset you, make you uncomfortable. You are better than this. You are here to rescue your brother. Let’s be grateful that this one mission won’t end in death and put on the clothes. We dance. We go to a room and enter a contest. I will stay with you, I will be by your side. I won’t let them near you. I swear it,” he said, fingers digging into Dean’s locked biceps. “There is nothing that can happen here that will make me think less of you.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “You have no fucking clue, Cas.” And then he pulled away, stalking down the hall to where their guide was waiting.

They entered an empty locker room. On a wooden bench was a pair of black leather pants, a pale blue t-shirt that appeared to be rather small and a leather jacket. “Castiel. This is for you.” The guide said, pointing at the pile.

Next to it was a pair of jeans, folded neatly and nothing else. Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Already wearing jeans, so if that pair is for me, I don’t need it. But it looks like the rest of the outfit is missing.”

She shook her head and walked slowly in a full circle around Dean, examining him from all angles. “Oh no, honey. Those old baggy pants do nothing for you. And you’re wearing far too many shirts.” She stopped in front of him, looked him up and down again, and smiled. “Anyway. Strict instructions. See you boys in a minute.” She walked out, leaving them alone.

“This jacket will be overly warm,” Castiel said, lifting it up.

“A motorcycle jacket,” Dean said and looked away. “Figures.”

“Why? You are very cryptic this evening.”

“Leather jackets are sexy.” He paced around the room in a tight circle.

“You are incorrect. I was specifically told that trench coats are the most appealing outerwear.”

Surprise flashed across Dean’s face. Castiel tried smiling at him as he shook off his long coat.  “You’re making a joke? Now I know we’re in trouble,” Dean said.

Castiel removed his tie next. As he pulled the length of it from his neck Dean turned, watching him, appearing almost fascinated by the move.  The fabric made a shushing sound as it slid free. Dean turned away from him. He shook off his jacket and the flannel he always wore underneath it. Then he hesitated, staring hard at the locker in front of him.

Castiel finished unbuttoning his shirt and then removed it. Dean shot him a glance, almost too quick to catch. He undid the button of his trousers and Dean scooped up the jeans and dashed from the room. “I’m going to hit the head,” he said, over his shoulder. Dean was fleeing. Which was very odd indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean bolted the door of the stall and braced his hands against it. This wasn’t happening. He had no problem with a guy being gay. It was none of his business who a person was into. He even knew a few gay guys. Not well, obviously. But that was just because he didn’t have any friends. Not beyond Sam and Cas. So it was bullshit that the Trickster thought making him go to a gay club was his worst nightmare. The bastard was just messing with him, kidnapping Sam so he could get his rocks off watching Dean do something that, okay, made him a little uncomfortable. Still, he was Dean fucking Winchester, and he could handle anything thrown at him. Hell, he had handled things way worse than this. He smacked the stall door hard with the palm of his hand, pulled his t-shirt over his head, and changed into the tight jeans. 

He avoided looking at himself in the mirror while he washed his hands, then took a deep breath, shook his arms out, and left the bathroom. Cas stood before a full-length mirror in the locker area, twisting a little from side to side and adjusting the collar of the leather jacket. Dean stopped before Cas could see him. The pants Cas had been given hugged his ass like they were painted on. Dean’s eyes traveled from the crease at the tops of Cas’ thighs, down the back of his legs to his bare feet, then shifted to the mirror and the front view. Jesus, who knew Cas had such well-proportioned legs under those rumpled suit pants? Strong calves, muscular thighs, even his feet were nice looking. 

Dean concentrated on Cas’s legs because he was trying not to look at Cas’s chest, or for fuck’s sake, his junk. If he thought the leather pants were snug around his ass, it was nothing to what they did for his crotch. And that damned shirt they gave Cas didn’t quite reach the waistband of the pants, so there was a line of skin exposed between his navel and hip bones. Dean closed his eyes and swallowed hard. This was Cas. He shouldn’t be ogling him like this. 

He must have made some kind of noise or something, because Cas turned around and caught sight of him. “Dean. Are you…?” Cas trailed off, looking at Dean, expression filled with worry. But then his expression changed. As he studied Dean’s jeans, which were obscenely tight in all the wrong places, and then his chest, the expression on his face changed from worry to something Dean couldn’t interpret. Curiosity? He felt his body responding. Which was not great.    

Dean ducked his head as he stepped out from behind the lockers and tossed his shirt and jeans on the bench next to his jacket and flannel. “Um, hey.” 

He started to cross his arms over his chest, but the brush of his own skin against his chest was too much with Cas staring at him like that. He must have been shirtless in front of Cas before, though he couldn’t remember ever feeling so self-conscious. He could swear he felt Cas’s eyes travel over every inch of him, sparking a fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach. When Cas focused his attention somewhere to the left of Dean’s head, Dean followed his gaze and caught sight of the handprint on his shoulder. It tingled, as if Cas was actually matching his fingers to the scarred flesh, and Dean flushed with heat. 

Dean took a shaky breath and Cas’s eyes snapped back to his, then dropped. His face went blank and his voice was neutral when he said, “Are you ready, Dean? The sooner we get started on the Trickster’s list, the sooner we can get  Sam back.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. Perform at the whim of some supernatural son of a bitch in order to rescue my brother. Again.” He shook his head and walked toward Cas and the door to the locker room. “You ever get tired of this crap, Cas? I mean, I was having a good night tonight, you know?” 

Cas seemed to give serious thought to Dean’s question. “I don’t feel tiredness the way you do. But it does seem like there are many supernatural entities who derive joy in, how would you describe it? Jerking you around?”

Dean tried very hard not to dwell on that statement and he certainly didn’t get a mental image of what it would be like to jerk Cas off. To stand close to him, touch him, work him until he made a sound. Jesus Christ.  “Now, put your shoes on before we go out there. You don’t want to be running around barefoot in a place like this.” He shook himself again, gearing up for whatever was waiting for him in the club. “I’m gonna need a stiff drink for this. Or twelve.”

The loud music assaulted them when they left the locker room for the main part of the club. He stood at the entrance for a minute, trying to adjust to the dim light and the thumping music. The large room was rectangular, with a stage at the far end and a DJ set up. Tall tables were scattered around the edges of the room, mostly holding abandoned bottles and glasses, but a handful of couples perched on stools or leaned against the tables, heads together, hands all over each other. The center was filled with a mass of writhing, dancing bodies. Colored lights swiveled in the ceiling, flashing over the waving arms of men in various states of undress. 

Dean pulled his eyes away to scan the rest of the room. No exits other than the one behind him. No sign of the Trickster, though he didn’t really expect that. No glimpse of Sam either, which he wasn’t sure yet was a good thing or a bad thing. Two bars on either side of the entrance, the one on the left slightly less crowded. First order of business, then. He turned to Cas and nearly ran into him, the angel hovering so close behind him. He jerked his head to the bar and Cas nodded.

The bartender was huge, muscles bulging from the tight tank top he wore. He came right up when Dean squeezed into the small gap between a frat boy with a dirty baseball cap on backward and a pair of scrawny boys surely too young to be here.

“Tequila, double, two of ‘em,” Dean called across the bar. The bartender nodded and leaned forward to be heard over the music. “Rail or top shelf?”

Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever’s quickest.”

The bartender smiled and turned to pour the shots. When he turned back and slid them across the counter, he looked Dean up and down, lingering over the anti-possession sigil inked over his heart. 

“Nice tat. You’re new.”

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Didn’t pay to alienate the bartender, especially in a place this crowded. 

“Thanks. How much?” He reached into his back pocket but the bartender shook his head. 

“On the house. Been told to keep an eye out for you.”

Great. Did everyone here know about him? He tossed the first tequila shot back and didn’t even have to wince. Licking his lips, he looked at the bartender with new respect. Maybe being known to the bartender wasn’t a bad thing.

“Nice tequila,” he said, tilting the empty shot glass as an afterthought of a toast. The bartender grinned and winked at him.

He turned to give the other shot to Cas but Cas wasn’t behind him anymore. Probably casing the place to help figure out what they had to do next to get to Sam. He looked at the second tequila shot in his hand, shrugged, and tossed it back too. The bartender was still watching him. Might as well get as much information from him as he could.

“So, what’s special about this place?” he called over the music.

“Biggest gay club in the city.” The bartender rested his arms on the bar, which gave Dean a bird’s eye view of the dip between his seriously well-developed pecs and displayed every bulge and cut of his upper arms. “Best drinks, best music. Brings out the hottest guys.” He looked Dean up and down again. “Like you.”

Dean snorted. “Right. Anything else?”

“Dance contest on Thursday nights. Judged by the fabulous Miss Rosie Starr.”

Tonight was Thursday. Of course. And hadn’t there been talk of a contest? “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Dean muttered, too low for the bartender to hear. 

The bartender cocked his head at Dean like he’d heard him anyway. “Most newbies get roped into it. Miss Rosie is very persuasive.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. Time to find Cas. The quicker he could get through whatever the Trickster had planned tonight, the quicker he could get Sam and get the hell out of here. Before anything got too out of control. He glanced once more at the bartender, still eyeing him like Dean would eye a piece of pie. What the hell, he might as well take advantage of all his assets. He leaned toward the bartender just an inch and passed his tongue slowly across his lower lip.

“Another double shot of that awesome tequila, maybe? And a beer?”

The bartender followed the path Dean’s tongue with his eyes and smiled. “You can have anything you want. Anytime, anywhere.”

Dean couldn’t stop a shiver at the promise in that husky voice, but there was no way he was acting on anything like that, so he stamped it way down, grateful for the wide bar counter between them. Still, he took the time to savor the last tequila shot, aware of the bartender’s gaze on his throat as he swallowed, then saluted him with the beer bottle and turned away to find Cas.

He was a little surprised that tongue thing worked so easily. It pretty much only worked fifty-fifty with chicks, at best. He wondered how many of these guys it would work on, as he scanned the edges of the dance floor for Cas. And that must be the tequila talking, because Dean Winchester would never consider the effect his tongue would have on another guy.

Really. 

And he was pretty sure the swipe of his tongue across his lip wouldn’t interest an angel. Where the hell was Cas, anyway? Dean assumed he’d been casing the club while Dean was at the bar but he didn’t see Cas near any of the tables or the stage. He glanced quickly over the dance floor at the mass of gyrating bodies and then back again. The music volume lowered briefly and then everyone in the club started clapping and cheering for the drag queen now strutting across the stage at the end of the dance floor. Miss Rosie Starr was a sight to behold. Hot-pink wig teased into an elaborate, gravity-defying hairdo, a spangled dress that barely covered her ass, and the biggest fake tits Dean had ever seen on anyone, male or female.

“Hello, party people! Are you ready for our Thursday night dance contest?” she called, as cheers and whistles filled the air.

“I understand we have a couple of special newcomers tonight. Let’s give a warm welcome to our first contestants, Dean Winchester!”

Dean nearly choked on the sip of beer he’d just taken. No way. No fucking way. And yet, there was a spotlight suddenly shining on him and hands pushing him toward the stage. Where the fuck was Cas? Without quite knowing how he got there, he was up on the stage, staring at the crowd of men on the dance floor, clapping and cheering. Rosie Starr sidled up to him and put a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Hi, honey, nice to meet you. You’re not going to be too shy to dance for us, are you?”

Dean tried his best to smile back. “Um, it’s nice to meet you too, Miss, um, Rosie. But I don’t dance. I’m sure there are plenty of people here who you’d rather watch up here. So, I’ll just…” he gestured to the end of the stage and tried to pull away.

Rosie Starr chuckled into the microphone while tightening her grip on Dean’s shoulder. “You all hear that? He’s modest, our Dean. And so good-looking.” She pinched Dean’s cheek, hard. “Now, Dean, I have it on good authority that you’re a much better dancer than you give yourself credit for. Besides,” she gestured the hand holding the microphone up and down Dean’s body and gave the crowd an exaggerated wink. “With a body like that, it would be selfish not to show us what it’s capable of. Ain’t that right, my pretties?”

As the crowd cheered and whistled again, Rosie leaned closer to Dean and whispered, “And I’m pretty sure you have your own reasons for playing along here. Don’t you, hon?”

Shit, was everyone in this place on the Trickster’s payroll? And would the embarrassment of this night never fucking end? 

Dean drained the last of his beer and looked out at the crowd. They were still clapping and whistling and cheering. It sort of seemed like they were clapping for him, actually. The crowd was friendly and supportive and everyone seemed to be having a good time. He took a deep breath. Shit, if he was going to do this, he’d have to do it his own way.

“Alright,” he sighed. “Are there any rules to this dance contest thing?” Rosie Starr clapped her hands together with delight. “Oh honey, there ain’t no rules here. You can dance anything you want, with anyone you want.” She flung her arm across the crowd on the dance floor. “You can dance with the one who brung you, by yourself, or anyone here. It’s all up to you, darlin’.”

Dean gestured for the mic. “Okay, um,” he closed his eyes for a minute, shocked at himself for doing this. “Anyone here from Texas?”

Several guys raised a hand and shouted affirmatively, like they actually wanted Dean to pick them. Dean ducked his head and smiled. “Anyone who can two-step?”

Out of the handful who waved their hands, begging to be chosen, Dean picked a young blonde, mostly because he was nearest the stage and wore cowboy boots that looked properly broken-in. The kid loped up on the stage with an easy grace and a blinding smile.

Dean gave the mic back to the drag queen, who chattered to the crowd while Dean took the boy’s measure. He was slim and good-looking, a few inches shorter than Dean, with blue eyes and very white teeth.

“Hey. What’s your name, kid?”

“Tyler,” the boy said.

“You any good at this, Tyler?”

Tyler smiled that bright smile at him again. “I’m really good at this.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay then. But I lead.”

Dean hesitated only a little before putting his right hand on Tyler’s shoulder blade. Tyler rested his arm atop Dean’s and placed his left hand just above Dean’s bicep and his right in Den’s left hand. The DJ started “All My Ex’s Live in Texas” and Tyler winked at Dean. They started off simple – two quick steps, then two slow steps, Dean stepping forward and Tyler moving back.

Tyler was good. Really good. He felt light and easy in Dean’s arms, as they moved in a wide circle around the stage. Dean put a little extra pressure on Tyler’s shoulder blade and guided him into a single turn under his left arm, then a double turn. On the next turn, he switched their hands and swung Tyler into the sweetheart position, their hips touching and his right arm over Tyler’s shoulders. They glided around the stage, back and forth, opening and closing, Tyler following Dean like they’d been dancing together for years. The crowd sang along with the chorus and stomped their feet in time to the music and you know, it had been a long time since Dean had had fun like this. 

As the song ended, Dean spun Tyler into a last double turn, then let him go. Tyler’s cheeks were flushed pink and sweat was trickling down Dean’s bare chest. He gave a self-conscious bow to the audience, still cheering both of them and Miss Rosie came back out to congratulate them. 

While the drag queen worked the crowd, Dean turned to Tyler. 

“Thanks, kid. You were great.”  

He looked out into the crowd. Where the fuck was Cas?

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Tyler waited there for a long moment, staring at Dean like a valet who’d parked Baby and was waiting for a tip. It took him a moment to figure out what the kid was waiting for. Tyler took matters into his own hands.  “In fact, we could do that some more...in the back or something else, or....”

“Dean,” Castiel said, in that deep stern voice of his. How come he never used that tone with Sam? It was a mixture of disbelief and resignation all in one. 

“Some other time,” he said, turning away. Dean jumped off the stage, landing lightly in front of Cas. “Where the hell were you? I had to dance.”

“I saw,” he said, gaze roaming the crowd. A muscle ticked at the corner of his jaw. 

“And?”

“And what?” Cas said, studying Dean as if the question were written on Dean’s forehead. 

“Never mind.” Jesus, would a “good job” kill him? 

“I searched the building. There is warding everywhere. If Sam is here, I can’t find him.” A pause. “Humans do enjoy praise. Good job,” he said, in a way that made Dean want to punch him. 

A waiter bumped into them and then paused, a smile on his face. His mustache was thick and black, almost comical. And certainly fake. The Trickster. “Well, boys, how is it going? Having fun yet?”

“I’m here. I’m wearing your stupid outfit and I did your stupid dance. Now, where is Sam?”

“He’s fine. Enjoy yourself. Have more tequila,” he said. 

Cas stepped forward. “You threatened to cut off Sam’s fingers.”

The Trickster rolled his eyes. “Of course I did. But as long as you boys keep doing what you’re supposed to do, then you have nothing to worry about.” He turned to Dean, his attention focused intently upon him. “Tell me, Dean. How are you finding it here? Are the people nice?”

Why did this feel like a trap? “Um, sure.”

“Good. Good. And the booze is up to snuff? You didn’t go for the cheap stuff, I see.”

“Since you’re the one buying I figured why not.”

The Trickster nodded, agreeing with the reason and then frowned. “Unless….”

“Unless what?” Cas growled. 

“Calm down. Goodness, your attack dog is itching for a fight, isn’t he? Or maybe it isn’t a fight he’s looking for. Tell me, Castiel. What do  _ you _ think of this club?”

“It’s loud,” he said, with no hint of irony.   

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. I mean for Dean. Have you ever met anyone so repressed in their sexual desires?” The Trickster opened his mouth to continue and then stopped. “Wait,” he said, overly exaggerated. “But that could describe you too! I mean, how often does an angel brand someone? Talk about staking a claim.”

Castiel took a threatening step forward. “It isn’t a brand,” he said. 

“Really? Then what is it? I know a thing or two about angels and I know just how difficult a rescue trip like that would be. I also know how long it takes. A mark like that? Did you even tell him the personal cost to you? Of course not.” 

He turned to Dean. “See now, that’s what they call love. I know, I’ve heard all the songs. I just want you two crazy kids to be happy. Take some time off, have some sex, give everyone else a break from the relentless sexual tension. Consider me your fairy godmother...making you two fairies finally admit how you feel. I mean, I thought one of you would break by now. But you haven’t.” 

He sighed, then stroked one side of his mustache with his index finger. “So here we are. You brought this on yourselves. If you want to continue to deny it and pretend you’re just ‘friends’ then you go on ahead,” he said, using air quotes. “Fear doesn’t make you give in. Near-death experiences don’t launch you into each other’s arms. Neither does actual death.”

“Which proves that you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Dean growled. 

The Trickster snorted. “One problem at a time.”  

Castiel snarled and lunged for the Trickster. He disappeared and reappeared on their other side. “Now that’s just rude. And there isn’t much left to do. It’s a few hours. One contest and one trip to the backroom. Yes, you’re friends. But can you stay just friends when you  _ have  _ to touch each other? That’s the question.”

“What happens in the backroom?” Cas demanded.

“As much or as little as you like. I’ll leave that up to you.”

“And the contest?” Dean asked. 

A truly terrifying smile crossed the Trickster’s face. “Do you remember Casa Erotica 22? The trip to the hardware store?”

Confusion marred Dean’s features for a moment. His expression turned to horror. 

The Trickster had the gall to laugh. “You do remember! There is only one hammer in the shop and everyone wants it. How do you decide who gets it? Whoever  _ comes _ and gets there first, of course,” he said, eyebrows wagging suggestively. And with a snap of his fingers he disappeared. A cocktail napkin floated down to the ground, as if he’d dropped it before vanishing. Castiel took it from the air. “Do it or Sam pays in unspeakable ways,” was written in thick black pen.

Cas gave Dean a narrow look. “What do you suppose that means? I assume it’s more than an unwillingness to discuss it after.”

“Yeah, yeah, you worked that one out. I need a fucking drink. I think there’s going to be a whole lot of unspeakable stuff neither of us wants to discuss after tonight,” he said, stalking away.

“What happens in Casa Erotica 22?” Castiel asked, when they reached the bar. Dean ordered two more tequilas and took a breath. He watched the bartender, able to feel Cas behind him, a solid presence at his back. But he couldn’t turn around and look at him, not yet. He just needed a minute.  

Casa Erotica 22. The key scene was a contest at the local hardware store between several pairs of handymen who all needed a hammer at the same time. The lead of the movie had to fix a pipe for a set of hot triplets in need of a shower after an oil wrestling contest. (No, he didn’t look closely at why they needed the hammer. The plot wasn’t really the point.) The owner decided to give the last hammer in the store to whoever could have an orgasm first. 

It made a hell of a lot of sense at the time. Just thinking about how hard Dean had come at that scene was a bit embarrassing. He hadn’t even gotten to the triplets. Watching the hot men suck each other off and grunt obscenities at each other had been more than enough to put Dean to sleep for the night. And the next several nights after that. Had he ever even gotten to the triplets?

“Dean,” Cas growled. Surely they weren’t going to do  _ that. _ The heat of the club, the rising tide of lust in the air and the drinks he’d already downed made him feel shaky and needy. He’d known it was a mistake, that all the tequila would lower his inhibitions. And he didn’t need the small voice in his head to tell him that that was why he’d done it in the first place. Him or Cas, one of them would be on their knees before the night was over. 

And because of the Trickster he  _ had  _ to do it. 

That was the thought that kept going around and around in his head. There was no choice. There was no fight he could fight, no one he could kill or threaten to make this go away. There was no other option. If they wanted Sam back, he would  _ have _ to do this. And fuck, didn’t that make things simple? 

The tension went out of him. The fear, dread and anxiety, it all got moved to a different place in his mind, a box that wouldn’t be opened again. Not tonight anyway. And it was Cas. Who’d pulled him from hell, apparently at great cost to himself if the Trickster was to be believed, who’d left Heaven for him and watched over him when he slept, had seen him cry and been there for a lot of the bad shit that was now his constant. He didn’t deserve Castiel. Was in no way good enough for someone so divine, but fucking hell did he  _ want _ him. And Dean wanted to be wanted by him. 

His hand hovered over the full glass. Should he drink it or leave it? If he wanted to remember this night at all, he should leave it where it was. And he did want to remember. He suspected this night would live on for a very long time in his masturbatory fantasies. His cock began to harden in anticipation. When the time came, Dean knew he’d drop to his knees in a flash. It was a fantasy he’d had over and over again. 

And now he would know. What Cas looked like as he came, the sounds he’d make, what made him tremble. The taste of him and the heat. Now he was hard. Dean was going to  _ make _ him come. 

“Dean,” Cas said again, his hand landing on Dean’s shoulder, covering his hand print perfectly. Dean shivered. What had the Trickster meant? What had he been hinting at when he mentioned the cost of Cas getting him out of hell and calling it a brand? 

“Sex, Cas,” he said, flatly. Putting it all out there. “Your second chance at getting laid.”

He was standing close, his eyes blue and intent on Dean. “I’ve thought about it a lot since then. Things will be different this time.”

“Do tell.”

“I know what I want this time.”

He left the drink on the bar and turned to face the angel. He felt like his cock was throbbing in time to the music and he wanted to throw himself at Cas, wrap his arms around him and feel him pressed up against his own body. Now that this was happening, that he was resigned to it, he was utterly desperate for it. Cas’ hair was disheveled, the flashing lights of the club illuminating his face in intriguing ways. The room spun slightly and Cas was there, both hands on his arms, steadying him. Because of course Cas knew that Dean was unsteady. Cas was Dependable. Maybe to other people, dependable wasn’t the sexiest of words, but for Dean, after the life he’d had, dependability and trust was arousing as fuck. 

Dean’s gaze went to the angel’s lips. He was so damned close. Desire roared through him, leaving him hard and almost breathless with a fierce desire to get things started. “Promise me,” he said, settling his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Whatever happens, tell me we’ll still be good.”

Leave it to Cas to look confused by a simple sentence. “There is nothing you could do that I wouldn't forgive. And this, here, me and this vessel and your body...nothing you could do to  _ it  _ would require an apology. I wish you believed me.”

“Then how come you look so scared?”

Cas blinked, startled. “I wasn’t aware I had any expression on my face.”

Dean smiled. “I’m sure most people wouldn’t notice.” 

Castiel’s gaze narrowed. “But you notice?” 

Dean blushed, embarrassed at what that admission gave away. “Yeah, okay, I’ve noticed.” he shrugged.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean noticed. Apparently paid such close attention to Castiel that he could interpret his smallest change in expression. That was...interesting. Dean was closer to him again, apparently now willing, even eager to engage in sexual activity with him. His attention turned to Dean, his body, his feelings, Castiel opened himself up to what was happening around them.

The music was overly loud. Even worse than angel radio. But Castiel could hear Dean well enough. He understood the slight slur of Dean’s words meant that he was comfortably drunk, and he was also aware that something had changed. Whatever resistance Dean had to tonight was gone. Dean’s desire was a palpable thing that practically radiated off of him. He was looking at Castiel with longing, with need.

Dean reached out a hand, touching Castiel lightly on his bicep, almost exactly where his hand had branded Dean. His grip tightened on Castiel’s arm. He pulled, just a little, the movement so slight it could have been a reflex, rather than an invitation. It would be so easy to close the distance between them, to treat that movement as permission.

In many ways this was an untenable situation for Castiel to be in. There was no way he could win here. He had many skills he’d honed over the long centuries of his life, but the one he’d always prided himself on most was devotion to the will of God. To fighting for God’s causes, whatever they might be. And when all of that had been destroyed, his life’s beliefs torn to shreds, he’d done the only thing he could do, he’d put his devotion, his faith in the Winchesters. Especially Dean.

He’d been told that he’d been lost from the moment he put a hand upon Dean Winchester. In fact, it wasn’t even a secret. Everyone in heaven, hell and in between knew he served the Winchester’s unto death.

The end of their lives would most likely be the end of his. He hoped so. For him to survive when they died would make him the ultimate failure. His devotion was absolute. But that made it sound honorable and the truth was that his feelings for Dean were not angelic and full of divinity but were base and craven. His feelings for Dean had become almost human.

At first he’d thought it had something to do with pulling Dean from hell. That the bond between them, which was so strong it had physically manifested itself on Dean’s body, was what caused Dean to think of him in such a carnal, covetous way.

Lust was part of Dean’s makeup. Part of all humans’ makeup. The fact that he’d turned that lust towards Castiel wasn’t something that made Dean happy. He ran from it. He did his best to pretend it didn’t exist. And so did Castiel. How far away would Dean run after tonight? How many waitresses would get to touch and fuck Dean Winchester because he would need to prove he didn’t want a man, and especially not an angel.

If he didn’t know better he’d think the Trickster had done something to him, used some sort of magic to heighten his own carefully controlled feelings of lust for Dean. From the moment they’d walked in and he’d seen the variety of things these men were doing with each other he’d been tempted. Too tempted. It was why he’d left Dean and gone to look for Sam. But, of course, the moment he’d left Dean alone he’d been swarmed by men who didn’t know how physically and emotionally unattainable Dean was. The men who were here didn’t need to ignore the beauty of Dean Winchester. Not like he did.

Castiel shook his head. “And therein lies the problem. We are only talking about tonight. But tomorrow….Dean,” He swallowed, having no idea how to finish that sentence. It sounded like he was begging. “How do we go back? You may forgive me, but you won’t forgive yourself and that will be worse.” Because he’d take it out on Castiel. Avoid him, act differently around him.  Either way, that would leave him with nothing.

“You don’t know that.” Dean straightened up, jaw firming, as if he were shaking off the haze of lust and preparing for battle. He moved closer, stepping into Castiel’s personal space, twining his arms around Castiel’s neck as though he would kiss him. He held Dean back. He didn’t push him away, because he wasn’t perfect, his restraint wasn’t endless, and the feel of Dean’s body against his own was devastatingly arousing.

“We have to get Sam back. That’s all that matters. We do this and it doesn’t mean anything. Tomorrow is another day. We won’t talk about it. We can go back to the way things were,” he said, sounding so convinced that Castiel almost believed him.

“I know you, Dean. I know you better than you know yourself, and-”

“Bullshit. Don’t tell me how I’m going to behave tomorrow. How many times do people tell us how things will be and they’re wrong? How often do we _make_ them wrong? And what choice do we have here?”

Dean licked his lips, his gaze locked on Castiel’s mouth. He breathed in, exhaled and Castiel felt it against his skin, felt the raggedness of Dean’s breathing. This was going to be a disaster. It probably already was. But Dean was right in that they didn’t have a choice. Which meant something was going to happen between them. Castiel had been privy to enough of Dean’s dreams and fantasies over the years to know what Dean liked.

And if they were going to do this, then Castiel was going to make sure it was the best sex Dean Winchester ever had.


	4. Chapter 4

It was obvious to Dean that he was going to have to take the lead here. It was sort of funny to think that Cas might have even more hang ups about sex then Dean did. He let that baggage slip away and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Cas’ pants, pulling Cas against him, felt the resistance in Cas as he allowed himself to be pulled close.  “Stop thinking so much,” Dean whispered, and pressed his lips against the angel’s. 

Just barely, at first, because even though he was resolved, he’d still never kissed a guy before. The excitement of it, the perfection of it being Cas made him shiver in desire. He swallowed down a moan, stunned that he’d gone from resistant to slut in two seconds flat. 

Cas just stood there, hands on Dean’s sides, no longer pushing him away but not actively participating, either. Dean slid his hand in the hair at the nape of Cas’s neck and licked at the seam of his lips. 

That did it, finally. Cas sighed into Dean’s mouth and let him in, head tilting to the side so he could deepen the kiss. And wow, kissing Cas was even better than he’d imagined. Okay yeah, he’d imagined it before. Maybe even while he was kissing that waitress earlier this evening. But Cas somehow knew just the right angle their mouths fit together and just how to alternate between teasing his tongue inside Dean’s mouth and delving so deep Dean felt like he was being consumed.

Someone jostled Dean’s elbow and he stumbled against Cas, who held him up with strong arms.

“You know, there’s a back room for this,” the guy who jostled him said with a saucy wink. “The rest of us would like to be able to get to the bar.”

Dean realized that they were standing in the middle of a sea of people and were, in fact, blocking access to the bar. He blushed and murmured an apology to the guy, and grabbed Cas’s hand, pulling him toward the door.

“Where are we going?” Cas asked.

“Anywhere but here,” Dean shouted over his shoulder. “I ain’t doing this in front of God and everybody, okay?”

“You know God isn’t here,” Cas started to say but Dean ignored him. Trust Cas to be literal.

He pulled Cas into a dark corner outside the main dance room, next to an old-fashioned cigarette machine and behind a tall fake palm tree. He pushed Cas up against the wall. He was torn between wanting to suck Cas off as quickly as possible, like in the Casa Erotica 22 contest the Trickster wanted them to replicate, and taking his time, since this was only going to be a one-shot deal. He kissed Cas sighed deeply and ground his crotch against him, feeling Cas’s erection straining toward him against the prison of his leather pants. Dean was going to poke a hole in his jeans himself, he was so hard.

Dean broke the kiss only because he needed to breathe. Cas tilted his head and kissed along the line of Dean’s jaw to his ear and down the column of his neck. Back up to his ear again and then Cas bit his earlobe and tugged gently, just the way Dean liked. Jesus, how did the angel know how to do this?

Dean swore and arched closer, needing friction against his cock. Cas was hard and as Dean pressed against him, he exhaled in pleasure. Which was undoubtedly the hottest thing he’d ever heard. 

He wanted more of that, Cas moaning and urging Dean on. He fumbled with the button of Cas’s leather pants, then pulled the zipper down with shaking fingers. Cas’s skin was so hot and the leather had stretched just enough for Dean to get his hand inside. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and Cas moaned in his ear, a sound that went straight to Dean’s own dick, which throbbed in response. He was going to have a wet spot on his jeans if this went on for too much longer. He slid his hand down as far as he could, then up and passed his thumb over the tip of Cas’ cock. Cas dropped his head against the wall, mouth open, eyes squeezed closed. God, could he really have this effect on a freaking angel?

“Alright, my depraved little darlings,” the drag queen said, from the stage. Everyone around them began to clap and holler. Dean froze. He’d been ready to drop to his knees but the interruption stalled him. He looked up, saw Cas staring at him, a frown between his brows. 

“I had no idea it was uncomfortable to be this aroused,” Cas said. Before Dean could respond the drag queen was speaking again. “Who’s ready to participate in the Suck Off? As usual, the first place winner gets two free drink coupons and a room in the back for an hour. A whole hour…” She winked. “A good-looking crowd like you all here, I bet you can get your rocks off a couple of times in sixty minutes, can’t you?”

The agreement from the crowd was thunderous. “Come on up to, well,  _ come _ on up,” she said saucily. 

Cas laced his fingers through Dean’s and tugged him towards the stage. Because they were supposed to participate in this. Right. All these people would watch them. Dean felt sick and unbelievably aroused at the idea. Everyone would know, everyone would see him. It would be so horrible and yet....

There was a line of men going up onto the stage. They made their way up the steps and Cas led them towards the corner of the stage and Dean let him. At this point, with how aroused he was, how excited Cas was, Cas could do anything he wanted to him and Dean knew he’d say yes. “I’m going to be the one to do this,” Dean said, hoping he sounded matter of fact rather than desperately eager. 

Cas dropped Dean’s hand and looked at Dean blankly. A moment passed and he blinked, nodding. “Yes, you are,” he said, his voice so low and stern it sounded more like a threat.

“Christ, you order me around like that and I’m going to be the first one up here to come in my pants,” Dean muttered. A thousand sordid things flashed through his mind, filthy things Cas might say to him. Not that he would, of course. And maybe that was for the best. He looked down at his pants, glad they were dark. And then his gaze went to Cas’s crotch, the pants zipped but unbuttoned, the outline of his hard cock ridiculously exciting. Dean licked his lips and wondered what Cas would taste like. The drag queen was speaking again but Dean had no idea what she was saying. He hoped he’d be able to see Cas’s face as he came. His gaze followed his thoughts and clashed with Cas’s, the blue in his eyes almost angelically bright. 

Cas took a step closer, his hand raising, touching Dean’s cheek and then his lips, gliding his thumb across them. “I have faith in you, Dean.”

“You have faith in my ability to suck cock?” Dean asked, hoping to hide just how good Cas’s words made him feel. 

“To suck  _ my _ cock,” he said, without any hint of embarrassment. “The thought of you on your knees, of your lips wrapped around me...I saved you, Dean. I’ve saved you, guarded you and watched you. And now you’re here and you’re going to show me how grateful you are, aren’t you?”

His heart sped up. If he’d thought this was casual for Cas, it was clear now that it wasn’t. His grip tightened on Dean’s jaw and he leaned closer, kissing him hard, fingers digging into his skin. He grabbed Cas’s shoulder, needing to steady himself. Fuck, he was about to fall to the floor. “You’re mine, Dean Winchester. Do you understand me? I killed hundreds of demons to get to you, I dragged you out of hell when you couldn’t walk. I recreated your body, and protected you in your dreams. You  _ belong _ to me,” he said, the words burning into him. 

Dean swallowed hard. “I know,” he blinked, surprised at the lump of feeling in his throat. And why was he so emotional? It made sense to be turned on by Cas’s words but the sentiment behind them? To belong, to be protected when he’d never really had a home, a mom or a dad, when everyone he’d ever known had found some reason to leave him or abandon him at some point. But now he was being claimed by an angel. Didn’t that make him...worthy? At least a little bit?  

Cas nodded. “Good. Then get down on your knees and suck my cock,” he said, and Dean did, ignoring the shock to his knees as he basically collapsed to the floor. 

Dean tugged Cas’s pants down enough to free his cock. It was bigger than he’d expected and now that he was here, Dean stopped thinking about how weird this was and focused only on how much he wanted to make Cas feel good. He kept his eyes on Cas’s face as he tentatively licked the head of Cas’s cock. Cas gave a tiny jerk of his hips and clenched his hands against his sides. Mindful of his teeth, Dean opened his mouth and slowly slid halfway down.

“Dean,” Cas groaned, and the note of wonder in his voice nearly undid Dean. An angel, an honest to God angel of the Lord, wanted him. All the amazing things Cas had seen and done and still he wanted Dean Winchester. The way Cas rested his hands on Dean’s head told Dean that he was actually doing something right, for a change.

Dean swallowed Cas down almost to the root, softening his tongue and letting Cas bump against the back of his throat. Hollowing his cheeks, he slowly sucked back up, swirled his tongue around the tip, and slid back down again. Cas’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling hard enough that Dean was on the verge of coming himself, untouched.

He pulled halfway up, wrapped a hand around the base of Cas’s shaft and set to work, sucking in a rhythm that called an awesome series of moans from Cas. He scraped his teeth lightly on the head once and Cas shuddered.

“Dean,” he grunted. 

“Mmm?” Dean murmured, sucking a little harder now.

“I can’t - I’m going to -” Cas ordered. Dean looked up at him, silently begging him to stay where he was, to come in his mouth and make him swallow. Cas slid his hands forward, cradling his hands like blinders on either side of Dean’s face. Cas’s hips jerked once, twice, and Dean braced himself for the flood of Cas’s orgasm. Salt and heat erupted from Cas, his cock pulsed in Dean’s mouth and Cas whispered his name over and over while Dean swallowed and sucked him down to the last drop.

Cas dropped one hand to his side but passed the other over Dean’s head, running his fingers gently through Dean’s hair. Dean let Cas’ softened cock slide from his mouth and rested his head against Cas’s stomach. He breathed in deep, wanting to revel in every moment of what had happened for as long as possible. If he was never having this again he wanted to remember it as much as he could. He ran his hands up and down Cas’ thighs, feeling his muscles, the texture of the fabric. He breathed in deep, wanting to absorb the scent of Cas’ skin. And he smelled so good. Sex, lust and purity. He didn’t have a better description, had no words for anything. 

Mostly he just felt happy, and safe, for the first time in a long while.

“Get up, Dean,” Cas said, and Dean took a moment to study Cas from this angle, on his knees before him, Cas’ face flushed from coming.  _ Again _ , he thought and he wondered if he’d said it out loud because Cas gave him a look, surprised and then away, his brow furrowed. 

“Where is the backroom?” Cas demanded, and the drag queen sauntered over and gave them directions. 

“Room 3. You can go down the stairs here,” she said, pointing with a long blood red fingernail. 

“Up, Dean. Now,” he said, and he reached down, pulling Dean to his feet. 

“I can walk,” he said, but had to pause to adjust the aching length of his cock in his too tight jeans. 

Cas grabbed his arm and dragged him to a small set of stairs and through a black curtain. A hallway lay before them with rooms numbered. “What is this, a whore house?” Dean asked.

“Are you complaining?” Cas asked him, sounding surprised. 

“No. Just curious, I guess...uh, where are we going?” he asked. Which wasn’t the right question but was hopefully close enough. 

“We’re not done yet,” Cas said, flat. 

Dean opened his mouth, wondering if he should protest. Some token bullshit--

“No, you shouldn’t.”

Dean stopped before the door, jerked his arm out of Cas’ grip. “You’re reading my fucking mind? Now?”

Cas opened the door and then turned back to him, sighing heavily. “Yes, Dean, I read your mind.”

He didn’t even know what to say. It wasn’t just mortifying, but wrong in a way he couldn’t describe. But he was pretty sure punching him was a start. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, quickly. “I won’t do it again. I just,” he looked at the floor. Dean hoped he felt guilty. Worse than guilty.

“Wow. The things you said--” and fuck, he couldn’t even repeat them. He felt betrayed, exposed and how was he to look him in the face again now that Cas knew he got off on the idea of Cas having some claim on him and liked to be bossed around, told to drop to his knees, wanted to be made to swallow his come?

He turned to leave. He didn’t even want to argue. It was just too horrible. 

“No,” Cas growled, grabbing him hard by the arm. “You don’t get to turn this into a mistake. Into some experience where I let you down and failed you. Don’t you get it, Dean? I have given everything for you.  _ You. _ Tens of thousands of years of being a good soldier. Of being dutiful and I turned my back on all of it to save you. I’ve burned every bridge, turned my back on God for you. One rebellious mortal. I have done everything for you. I’ll continue to do everything for you until the day I die. Everything I said to you is true. I am yours,” he said, and damnit if he wasn’t almost panting with the force of his emotions. 

Which, Dean had to admit, was pretty fucking hot. 

“And you are mine. I read your mind enough to know that you were willing and...truthfully to make sure it would be good for you. If we only get one chance to do this, I wanted it to be special. Better than some waitress at a truckstop,” he said, gaze sliding away from Dean’s. 

Dean flushed and felt something like guilt bite into him. “No comparison, I assure you. It’s never been, well, nothing has ever been like this,” Dean said. But he didn’t say there would be a next time. Because of course there wouldn’t. 

“I enjoyed telling you what to do. Enjoyed…having you to touch and kiss as I chose.”

Oh. Dean couldn’t deny that was hot. And exactly what he’d wanted too. Still wanted in fact. “Yeah,” he managed. Because he wanted Cas to know that it’d been amazing for him too. Even if he did probably already know that. 

“The night isn’t over yet, Dean. The Trickster wants us to go into this room. And so we will. You worshipped me with your mouth and now I want to do the same.” 

Dean snickered. “Worshipped? It’s a blowjob,” he said. 

Cas sighed, sounding exasperated. “Call it what you will. Now get into this room.” 

“Call me crazy, but I’m thinking I should ask you what exactly is going to happen to me in that room--”

“No,” Cas said, voice a rumble and then he pulled Dean with him, forcing him into the room. He closed the door behind them and suddenly Dean’s back hit the wall, Cas pinning him hard with his body. His mouth covered Dean’s, demanding entry. 

Dean sagged against the wall, the fight leaving him. Yes, this was what he wanted. To be consumed by Cas, claimed by him. He wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck and was rewarded with an audible sigh of need. Cas ground closer, the pressure almost painful as their hard cocks rubbed against each other’s. And then Cas moved back, enough to slip his hands between their bodies. He undid Dean’s jeans, took down the zipper and palmed him, stroking him in fast, firm strokes. 

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come,” he rasped. And Cas released him, cold air hitting Dean’s skin. He opened his eyes, saw Cas backing away from him. 

Towards a bed. “There’s a bed?” 

Cas cut a glance to the nightstand where there was a basket filled with packets of lubricant, wipes and who knew what else. 

“Take your clothes off, Dean.” Cas took his shirt off, his skin golden in the dim light. And then he unbuttoned his pants and Dean was hypnotized by his hands, his fingers and then his cock, hard and long as each part of him was revealed. 

Naked. Cas was naked. He wanted him. All of him, in every way. To touch him, kiss him, smell him, explore him. Dean took his shirt off, feeling clumsy and almost shy. Which was not a word he’d ever have thought would apply to him. Cas came closer, hands skating down Dean’s chest, fingers tracing Dean’s nipple until he shivered. He smiled. Slow and confident. He moved closer, kissing Dean again, his hands everywhere, pushing Dean’s pants down and off, moving him deeper into the room and then to the bed. 

Cas went with him as Dean’s back hit the mattress, covering him, not giving him time to think. Dean kissed Cas’s neck, ran his hands down the angel’s body, enjoying the strength of him, the restrained power that was there to protect him. He wanted him closer, deeper, to be part of him. Cas was shield, his savior against all the monsters that wanted to kill him, every moment of every damned day. But right now he was safe. He could come and sleep and his angel would protect him. 

“I want to come inside you,” Cas said, the words whispered near Dean’s ear. 

Dean’s cock jerked at the thought. Yes. “I thought you weren’t going to read my mind,” Dean said.

Tension went through Cas’s body and then he relaxed again. “I didn’t,” he said. “I want more of you. All of you. That was what  _ I _ was thinking. 

“It’s safe. And I’d never hurt you. If I hurt you, I’ll stop. And I can fix it,” he said, looking down into Dean’s face with a serious, and almost pleading expression. Cas wrapped a hand around Dean’s cock, before adding his own, squeezing them both in his slicked up hand. 

“When did you get lube?” he asked, not sure if he was stalling for time.

“I have skills you haven’t seen yet,” he said, and winked. 

Dean laughed. Maybe he shouldn’t have but he couldn’t help it. There was nothing less smooth than Cas trying to be smooth. “Yeah,” he said, arching his hips so his cock pressed harder into Cas’s hand. He shifted, moving his thigh, enjoying the slide of his leg against Cas’s smooth side. “Anything you want.”

Cas hesitated. “Do you want me to? I don’t want to if you-”

Fuck it was hard to look him in the eye and admit it. But he did. “I want to try. I trust you,” he said, the word trust even more agonizing than the word love.

Desire flared in Cas’s eyes and then Cas was kissing him. The urgency had reduced enough and now each touch of his lips and his tongue was soft, exploring, as if he were trying to communicate how he felt without words.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Castiel’s fingers slipped downwards, the pad of his index finger rubbing gently at Dean’s opening. The shock of his touch made Dean flinch. Castiel made a soothing sound and continued to kiss him, his fingers stroking Dean, slicking him up until Castiel’s finger slid inside Dean’s body. 

The heat of Dean’s body and the slick softness of Dean’s skin was enough to make Castiel tremble in anticipation. He shifted back to his heels and found the lube. Lubricant was the key. 

Dean watched him, lips swollen from kissing, his cock hard against his stomach and his legs spread in invitation. Castiel applied the slick liberally and even though his cock was aching, fluid leaking from the tip, he waited, his attention focused on Dean’s body, waiting for him to be open enough to take him. 

Neither of them spoke, the sounds from the club muffled but still audible through the walls and doors. Castiel began to work a third finger into Dean and Dean groaned, his hand landing on Castiel’s arm. “Enough, fuck, let’s do this,” he said, and he tilted his hips, his body clenching on Castiel’s fingers. His own cock spasmed in response. 

He needed to be inside him, now. He pressed the head of his cock against Dean’s opening, all of his focus on staying still, not hurrying when all he wanted to do was bury himself deep inside of Dean. 

“Come on,” Dean growled, fingers digging into Castiel’s shoulders. Dean lifted his hips and the head of Castiel’s cock was suddenly engulfed in wet heat. 

“Don’t do that or I’ll come,” Castiel said, through clenched teeth. “I didn’t realize how difficult this would be.” A long moment passed before Castiel was able to open his eyes and check on Dean. Which was enough to push him back to the edge. Dean’s cheeks were flushed, his thighs clenched tight around Castiel’s hips, urging him onwards. His lips were parted and he raised his head, seeking Castiel’s lips. 

Unable to help himself he pushed forward, slowly working his way deep into Dean’s body. “Are you okay?” He murmured as his mouth met Dean’s. A groan of approval and a ripple of sensation around his cock was his answer. 

Castiel began to move in a smooth rhythm, Dean’s body open and relaxed beneath his. “I didn’t know it was like this,” Castiel whispered, wishing it could go on forever and yet desperate to come. 

“It isn’t. This is different,” Dean said, and he turned his head away, eyes closed. Jaw clenched. 

Dean’s cock was hard, a small pool of precome on his stomach reassuring Castiel that this was as good for Dean as it was for him. How would they go back to the way things were after this? Could he ever look at Dean and see him as just a friend instead of someone he knew he could have? “I’m afraid I will always want this from you,” Castiel said, watching as his cock slid out of Dean’s body and plunged back home.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. But it was hard to think, hard to do anything besides shove his cock deep into Dean over and over again. 

“Cas,” Dean said, and he read everything and nothing into the way Dean breathed his name. A shudder rolled through him and he felt Dean come, his cock pulsing heavily between their joined bodies. it was enough to make Castiel come too and he kissed Dean as sensation washed through him, the urge to be close to him, to have more of him still there and urgent even as he came inside him. 

They lay there for awhile, Castiel afraid to move, worried it would end this moment between them forever. Dean shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Castiel’s waist. “If I...If I told you I wanted to do this again, what would you say?” Dean asked, face turned away.

“I would say yes. Always.”

Dean lifted his head, eyes searching Castiel’s face. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth and Castiel couldn’t help but lean in and kiss the spot gently. Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. “Closing time! You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here!” The Trickster said. “Although, you might want to go home because Sam is back in your room and wondering where the hell you both went. I didn’t tell him anything. Seemed like an awkward conversation. So, have fun with that. Don’t forget to send me a fruit basket.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to send it,” Castiel murmured. Which made Dean kiss him again. 

“You’re freaking adorable, you know that?”

“No, I don’t. I’ll need frequent reminders.”

“Done,” Dean murmured and kissed him again. 

  
  



End file.
